Hanging Basins of Stourport

Nature does incredible things with water, usually within the panorama of river systems or the tenacity of oceans.  We try to control or direct these powers but often without success.  Canals, on the other hand, are cut with precision and used with ingenuity.  Stourport on Severn has both of these and is home to almost a hundred boats.  I visited the town this weekend and the abundance of water in this renowned island port creates a feeling of harmony with nature.

I began my quest into Stourports pedigree by visiting the Windlass Restaurant and Cafe, which nestles on the riverbank.  I wanted to look around the Old Tontine Stable Heritage Room which adjoins the eatery, but firstly I succumbed to the temptation of lemon cheesecake - well I would.  Exquisite.


Once suitably refreshed I enquired as to whether I could see the room, aware that leaflets set out a programme of tour dates - all of which are expired for this year, but a new programme will be announced for next year.  After a short wait, the chef came and unlocked the room, and I was invited in shortly afterwards.  He'd checked the place out and switched on a short televised documentary about stabling in the region.


"At one time," he informed me, "The whole building operated as stabling facilities for the horses that towed barges along the canal."  Much cooler than the restaurant, the bare brick walls had only a semblance of the whitewash that would have been arbitrary in the eighteenth century.


The documentary explained that the boatman's first concern on arrival would be finding a stable for the night, known as "A tanner a night."  The horse had to be kept warm and dry to prevent it getting sick.  Built at the same time were the Tontine Stable and the Tontine Hotel, a large characterless building with rooms that were hired out to merchants and traders.  The documentary goes on to describe how a boat horse harness differs from that of any other working horse and, chiefly, this amounts to a series of wooden bobbins that roll with the movement of the horse, and prevents chafing.  As with all things regarding the canal, these would be painted to suit the colours of the boat company.


Behind the Tontine lies a maize of basins at varying levels and linked by a series of locks and bridges, some of which could swing to allow access for barges.  The Wolverhampton Canal disappears into a dark hole that looks like a cul-de-sac, but on inspection, I found that lock gates immediately behind the bridge closed off all light.  This section filled me with awe.  I stood on a grating and, below it water gushed along the length of the walkway and under a concrete plinth.  This overflow from one basin, bypassed the lock and fell into a lower basin, carrying out the role of a weir.

A sign warned that boats should not enter the river when a red light showed because water levels were too high and river locks may be closed.  This confused me because I'd never heard of such things.  Even so, a red light was displayed and the boats were all stationary.

October Wings

On a wet week in October, goldcrests were the dominant feature of my discover wildlife holiday in North Devon.  They flocked over woodland, salt-marshes and moorland.  Some of my companions were unimpressed, claiming they were constant visitors to bird tables in their gardens - pfuf - not me. 

I loved watching their feathers radiate different colours as the sun caught their underbellies and then outstretched wings to glide up and away in the wind, before making the adjustment to swoop and change direction.

October is a good time to catch these birds congregating, having disposed of the breeding season.  Some flock together in readiness to migrate to warmer climes, but not the goldcrest.  For this tiny resident, it provides protection from predators; the changing light on a myriad of feathers confuses the raptors, and an extra pair of eyes help.  The bird parties pass through individual territories and some of these incumbents join the congregation, dropping out as the flock leaves their patch.

In woodland, flocks of long-tailed tits and their cousins could be heard above the canopy.  The easiest way to catch sight of them and study their numbers is to wait at a break in the tree cover.

Identifying their territories is easier during the breeding season, when it is possible to stand in one place and listen to their song.  This gives an idea of the size of each pairings domain and the exuberance of foodstuffs.

Redstarts were just arriving and I saw them flocking in the woodland below Dunkery Hill.  They come from Scandinavia.  For them, we are the warmer climes.  They hang back for favourable winds to make the journey, and whilst its damp and mild, are happy to feed and wait.  If head-on winds persist, a more hazardous journey has to be made and exhaustion makes them easy prey for Skewers, which knock them into the water.

Sustained rainfall held sway for the five days of my holiday, and as the groups minibus drove down a narrow lane on the last day, a farmer tried to move his sheep from a sodden field, but water gushed through the gateway as if from a pump.  The sheep would have none of it.

"What's happening?" our driver asked him.  "Do you think it'll rain?"

Kevin, leader of the discover wildlife campaign predicted the environmental agencies would be monitoring the situation in preparation for the kind of disaster that hit Lynmouth in 1952.

I donned my rainwear yet again and braved the mists of Exmoor.  In the fast flowing streams, Dippers fed on aquatic insects and their larvae.  Being shy creatures, they moved along the waterway as soon as we arrived.  Many would migrate downstream as the season hardened.

Our group did that later in the day, arriving in Lynmouth to view the gushing river.  Sure enough, a pair of dippers flitted onto rocks, scooted around them and dived after their prey.  Sturdy wings guided them through the water, before resuming their perch for an instant.  These birds cared nothing for the presence of people moving around on the pavement above them.

That evening, I heard on the news that flash floods had unexpectedly devastated Clovelly in North Devon.